Tell Me
by J S Arnold
Summary: Olivia Lawson comes to work for Mr. Grey after 30 or so failed attempts at finding a career she can stick to. Christian feels he has to show her... but knows she isn't ready to see... and yet finds her impossible to stay away from. Darker than love, darker than submission. What happened to Olivia?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story is set before Ana came along, before Christian got fixed :-P Please tell me what you think :-)

**Tell Me...**

**1**

As Olivia folds the paper hat in two and throws it in the bin, she thinks to herself _What is the point of even trying_. This is about the 30th job she's lost because she can't stand to take orders from someone less skilled than herself. She had finished university last year with an English degree and a bright future, but instead of finding a place in an office, where she would definitely get paid more than she had working at _that _place, she has been reduced to working in a minimum-wage hell. While she hasn't ever wanted to work at that fast-food restaurant anyway, she shouldn't have had to, there was nowhere else. Now she is jobless... and broke. At this rate she wouldn't be able to keep up the rent on this apartment for much longer; She sees people living on the streets all the time, she knows how her life would be if she ever lost her home.

As his eyes roamed over her, she felt her insides turn to jello. Whatever she tried to do, her boss was shameless in his blatant attempts to get her alone. She would do _anything _to not be alone with him, but he was the boss and as long as she wanted to have a job at McDonalds she could not do a damn thing about it. All he needed to do was ask her to see him alone in his little office in the back and she would have no choice but to go there... If she wanted to keep her job. She didn't like to think about it.

It's time to look for another job.

The internet site listing all the positions available in Seattle is scant, but then it usually is whenever she checks it. For such a large place, work is hard to come by. Any jobs that appeal to her are either already taken when she rings the number to reply, or requires things that she does not have—like a car. She doesn't want to just settle for something for the sake of getting a job, though. She is almost at the bottom of the listings when finally, at-last, she can see something that had some potential. The ad reads:

PERSONAL ASSISTANT

NEEDED FOR IMMEDIATE PLACEMENT

PAY SCALE TO BE DISCUSSED

That is the best offer of a job that she has seen for quite a while, and starting right-away would not be a problem. She won't have to give much notice before she leaves the job she has at the moment. The amount she might get paid never really occurs to her, but she would bet that she will make more than she does now. What's stopping her? Nothing. This is like a sign from fate; she is _meant _to have this job, she knows it. Bringing up her e-mail program, she clicks the new messege button and switches windows to find the e-mail address for Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**To: C**areers...GreyEnterprisesHoldingsInc . com

**From: **olivia-lawson...hotmail . com

Greetings,

This email is in response to the advertisement in the Seattle Times newspaper 4th March 2007. I am available for work immediately.

Look forward to knowing when I should come in for an interview.

Olivia

She presses send before she can change her mind. Even as she had been writing her response, her gut had clenched so tightly it was painful. Would she seem too brusk, to whoever read her application? She reads over the e-mail and cringes. She bet she would sound like a robot when his current assistant read her words, or worse, someone who would not be commited enough to warrent being hired at all. She had had the same problem all her life; she can _speak _with feeling, make her words ring with honest emotion even when she does not feel it, but in her writing she has never been able to do the same. Maybe she should have applied to the Library instead... she shakes her head. She can't go back there... not after what happened to make her quit her job there in the first place.

She had been twenty-one when her boss there had cornered her in the storeroom, using his greater size to overpower her in a matter of seconds. It still gave her nightmares when she remembered how the man had made her cower in front of him that afternoon at the library, still made her shudder. She never wanted to feel that helpless again, wanted to be stronger, which was why she knew she needed to work for Mr Grey, the would-be boss she hoped could give her an opportunity to excell and find her potential.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Tell Me...**

**2**

Christian Grey watched the women he passed with studied indifference, showing no emotion on his face even as they blushed and put hands to their blouses, skirts, their legs. None of these women did a thing for him, but he had learnt from an early age that women like these usually did as they were told. These creatures enjoyed pleasing him and he knew he could not ask for more, or at least most of them did.

Sitting on a chair in front of him sat a blond woman of about twenty, her eyes heavily made up with both eyeliner and mascarra, with her bottom lip thrust outwards in a pout. As she sat there in silence she had her hands securely in her lap as if she had to fight an impulse to reach out and touch him—If she did so, she would soon find out that it was a mistake. He wasn't in any mood to have her touching him with her filthy little hands, and he doubted that he could restrain himself from doing something he might regret. At last she murmured something, but it was too quiet for him to hear.

"What was that? I could not hear you." His voice was hard, as hard as the metal ruler he slapped against her bare thigh, and uncompromising. "What did you do with the money." Each time he slapped her skin with the ruler, her panic seemed to grow even as she moaned low in her throat. In the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn't be doing this, not here at least, but the dominent in him knew how to get a woman to submit. "What _right _did you think you had to steal from me? Did you think that you would go unpunished when I found out what you have done?" He waited for an answer, but it was the door that made a sound instead.

A knocking brought him out from the haze of icy contempt that this woman had put him in, and he answered without dropping his stance. His secretary opened his office door and paused.

"Sir?"

He dropped the ruler onto his desk and straightened. "What is it, Andrea?" _Can't you see I'm busy?_

"There... umm... there's an Olivia Lawson here to see you... for an interview?" She didn't seem sure that she had heard the woman waiting at reception right when she said that she was looking to work here. Olivia was a blond, true, but there was something about her that seemed out of place. She knew it was none of her business, which was why she tried to keep the question out of her voice. It did not seem to work.

"Is there a problem?" Christian asked, his voice tight, an odd sort of tightness that came from inside his chest.

"No, no of course not," she stammered back, "I'll send her in right..."

"Give me a minute to take care of something first." He interrupted her easily, seeing no problem in guessing the end of her question and saving her the breath.

She dipped her head. "Yes, sir, of course." She backed out of the room, feeling behind her for the door, and disappeared from sight.

"Where were we?" He asked the now cowering woman, a grave look on his face.

X

"He'll be a few minutes—if you would just like to take a seat."

Olivia did as she was instructed and sat down in the uncomfortable looking seats, keeping her expression neutural as she tried not to slide out of it and onto the floor. This place was so different to what she was used to... She smelt the leather as if it was brand new. In all the places she had worked previously, while doing her degree, not one of them had had a waiting room as classy as this one. This was less like an office building and more like an ultra-modern gallery, complete with obscure art hanging on the walls.

From out the corner of her eye she saw an office door open and close. She turned expecting to finally see Mr. Grey in person, but instead all she saw was another blond woman. Her clothes were rumpled and her makeup was smeared, but still, she seemed just like every other woman she had seen here up until now. Her cheeks glowed red, but that did not mean anything did it? The door closed behind her with a click and she wobbled out of sight around a corner. When Olivia glanced at the receptionist, she saw a look of empathy, but not suprise, stamped on her face. Was this usual?

What kind of man was Christian Grey? She could not even guess at what had made that poor woman appear so distressed. Did she want to think about it? Before she could stop herself, to distract herself, she was up and out of her chair and touching the glass of one of the framed pieces of art with her fingertip, as if she could of felt the texture of the painting beneath.

She hadn't realised how long she had been staring at the art until, from somewhere behind her, she felt the air be disturbed. She turned expecting to see the perky receptionist, but instead found herself face to face with the C.E.O. Of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc, Mr Christian Grey. He stood tall and strong, and for a few heart-stopping moments she could do nothing but stare. This man was a God and he _had _to know it, as everyone else seemed to.

"Miss Lawson?" His voice made her name sound like a whispered promise between lovers, his tongue carressing each sound as if it was sacred. He did not extend his hand in greeting so she didn't either. He seemed... disatisfied? How could he be _anything _when he had seen her for the first time just now? Oh, damn. Had the e-mail been too pointed, after all?

"Yes, Olivia Lawson. Mr Grey?" She didn't really need to ask, but it was all she could think of to say. "I'm here hoping to apply for the position of Personal Assistant... I don't know where to go but..."

"This way," he said, interrupting her before she could finish, and nodding to the office the other woman had before stumbled out of in such a state.

He pointed to a chair on the opporsite side of the desk than his and she sat down gingerly. Already she was beginning to regret applying for this job. This probably wasn't for her anyway, so why was she here? It was like this man had a magnetic attraction or something, because as he moved around the desk her eyes seemed fixed to his every movement. She could not tear her eyes away, even when mentally she knew she should.

"...skills..."

She shook her head to snap herself out of her thoughts, realising that he was asking her a question. "Sorry?"

"What are your skills—qualifications, do you have any?" He fingers were steepled at his lips and his eyebrows were quirked in a way that could mean any number of things.

"English Degree."

His brow furrowed as if he were confused by something. Was it what she had said? Because she would have thought she spoke clear enough.

"I graduated last year, but I haven't been able to find a placement that suits me—until now, that is." She was beginning to ramble, which was always a good sign that she should stop speaking altogether.

"Why only now?" His voice was perplexed, as if he expected her to think that this was the only place she _could _work.

"Well..." she was blushing and her face was starting to heat up against her fingertips. "Well, I... I didn't think this would be right... for me." She didn't want to be rude, but the man was asking her about something she considered personal.

His smile turned wry. "You can't know for sure until you give it a try, can you?"

She didn't know why, but the gleam in his eye sent a buzzing sensation straight to her loins. She straightened in her chair, pressing her thighs together. "No, you can't."

"Is Monday a good time for you?"

_For what?_ She thought. "Sir?"

"I need this position filled as soon as possible. Is this Monday a suitable time to start working?" He knew that for now he would have to handle her gently, not roughly, though that would come later.

"Monday is... good."

"Good." He smiled broadly and accompanied her out into the reception, his hand on her shoulder as much a statement as a tool to guide her in the right direction.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Tell Me...**

**3**

Monday came too quickly though two whole days had passed since the "Interview", Olivia thought that their conversation barely qualified, and to attempt to stop her hands from shaking so much she decided to do some laundry while she waited for the sun to rise. It had been four-thirty when she had checked her bedside alarm clock, a time she would have never considered a wake-up time before, but after suffering the nightmare she had last night she wanted nothing more than to get up and going.

Her nightmare had been in a dark, crimson place, maybe a dungeon, and her tormenter had been standing over her as she knelt on the floor at their feet. The being had been holding something in its hands, a book or something thinner, she couldn't quite see but it made a slapping sound on its palm as it tapped the object against it. She remembered how the fear made her feel sick, frightened and queasy, and knew that was why she felt so unwell. If she could have called in sick she would have, but it did not seem prudent to miss her first day.

She remembered thinking on Friday that it was a shame that a whole two days had to pass before she could see him again, but now on Monday she dreaded it. She wished she had an alternative. Usually she enjoyed weekends because she could relax, but how could she relax when everytime she thought of him her body grew tense. It could have been because of the lust he brought out in her, but the sensation of her chest seemingly crushing her heart spoke of something else entirely.

Fear? Why would she be frightened of _Christian Grey_ just because of a dream she had had—he had done nothing but what any other person would do upon meeting someone for the first time. He seemed nice enough, with brilliantly white teeth and a handsome face, though she knew from experience that these things did not always equal a _nice_ human being, but there was _something _about him that she did not trust. The woman, Andrea, had seemed content enough with her job there, but at the same time Olivia had sensed a kind of desperation to please. Was there some kind of penalty for not behaving like this man was a god in human form?

_What has she gotten herself into? _She wondered, taking the last piece of clothing out of the dryer and folding it neatly on top. After losing thirty-or-so jobs, she had been absolutely thrilled to know she'd gotten the placement so quickly after applying.. but now? How could she know what horrors might lay in wait for her there? She lifted the clothes into the basket and began climbing the stairs out of the basement.

In her previous house, already that place was fading from her memory, she had had the washer and dryer in the same room as the fridge, which made more sense in her mind, but she did not feel brave enough to move them up from below. She could have hired someone to do it for her, but the idea of some stranger working down there gave her the chills.

At six o'clock, just as the first rays of sun shone over the horizon, she grabbed a bowl from one of cabinets in her new kitchen and tipped a tiny portion into it with some skimmed milk. She did not really feel like eating, but it was a habbit that refused to be broken. She sat at the breakfast bar and tried not to think about her day ahead at Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. She did not mind the work, but seeing _him _again... she did mind _that _very much. Would she be able to hold it together—her self-control?

As his Personal Assistant, she had to be there waiting for him in the mornings, and she almost ran the short distance to the large office building in her haste to make a good first-impression. They counted, right? First impressions? It was times like these that she could have used a car, but the expense seemed like a waste of Money. If she could get to a place without having to pay tax or pay for petrol, why would she choose another way of getting around?

She stumbled through the doors on legs that seemed to be about to buckle beneath her and searched around her for any clue about where she should go next. Andrea hadn't arrived yet, so there would be no help from her or anyone else, but maybe she was glad about that; she wanted to make a good first impression, and looking like a clutz would not help her at all. She straightened and approached the door at the centre of the far wall, praying thay it would be the right one, hoping to see anyone on the other side.

The door opened and she saw a room furnished only with a desk and two chairs, one on either side. She stepped farther into the nearly empty room, and thought to herself that she would have expected a man as rich and powerful as she _knew _Mr Grey to be to have an office with a bit more personality. She was just about to take her leave when a hand, more than big enough to cover her entire shoulder, stopped her before she could unfreeze herself from this position.

"What are you doing here?" Asked a masculine voice, low enough that her ears had to strain to hear it.

_Damn_, she thought, _my first day and I'm already in trouble with security_.

She couldn't turn to him, but she could speak quietly, too. "I—I came for... I work here..." Or atleast, she _thought _she worked here now. Had she misunderstood his meaning when Christian spoke to her?

"Your desk is upstairs," the man told her softly, his tongue doing strange things to the words.

Her heart, which had already been hammering in her chest, almost stopped. "Christian—Sir?"

"I'll show you the way this time, but I don't think you will get lost again." His voice was brusk, and instantly he had made her feel two inches tall. It was impossible to know for sure what he was thinking without her being able to see his face, but the way he gripped her arm made her wonder if already she had angered him somehow. She almost told him that if there had been signs to direct her around this place she would have easily found her way on her own, but it was almost as if the words were stuck in her throat, needing permission to be spoken. Maybe this _was _a mistake, after all.

He led her to the second floor and opened a door into an office that made the one downstairs look like a joke. Whereas the room below had been stripped of any style, this room was filled with it, but still there was no personality, no clue that could have given her an idea of who this man was, or what interested him. _Something _had to drive a man to be so successful, didn't it?

"_This _is where you will be working. _There_," now he pointed at closed double doors across the generous reception where she would work now, "that is my office."

Why was he speaking to her as if she had done something wrong? She wanted to make a good impression, but the way he spoke to her, as if she was nothing but a _thing_, put her nerves on edge.

"Maybe this is not the—"

Christian moved away from her in such a harsh movement that she was stopped mid-sentence. He ran his large hands through his hair and held the back of his head with them. "Why don't you just give it a try?" He said through clenched teeth, obviously flustered by her lack of enthusiasm about working with him.

She nodded her head, keeping her eyes downcast, feeling as though it would be a great crime if she did not make him happy. As she made her way to the desk, she felt him watching her and wondered what he saw, and what he imagined working with her would be like.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Tell Me...**

**4**

The afternoon dragged by with almost intolerable slowness, and by one-thirty she was almost insane with her desperation to be out of the sterile building and back in the realworld; being so close to him, and yet unable to see him, made her feel stangely _wanting_. She didn't want to feel this way, especially about her new boss, it never boded well for her future, but something about her screamed danger and that she should get out while she could. But for some unknown reason she really did hope that this cold and emotionless place held some kind of hope for her—a purpose. What evidence did she have to base her suspicions on, anyway? Her gut hadn't alway been right, after all.

At two o'clock there was finally some movement from behind Christian's office door, and a moment after the sound of feet dragging against the carpet a man in his forties stumbled out and tumbled to his hands and knees. He was blond and tanned and handsome, but Olivia did not notice these things until she recalled them later. What she saw was the blood escaping out of the corner of his mouth amd dribbling onto his shirt. She acted without thinking, without thinking that it wasn't her place to do anything, and snatched up the designer tissue box from where it sat on her desk. She rushed over to him and pulled a bunch out, offering them to him before she knew what she was doing. She had had to this when she worked at a school a few years back, so even when the blood did not stop flowing she remained cool and detatched.

"Thank you," the man said stiffly, his gaze darting between her and the room he had just come from, "I can take it from here..."

She realised that she must seem pushy, pressing tissue into his face without asking first if it was okay, and instantly dropped her hand from his bleeding mouth. She stood just as the office door opened again and Christian stood with both hands fisted at his side. He was usually cold and detatched, distant even, but as he stared holes into her she felt heat. His anger was palpable in the air and as she breathed it in she felt fear consume her from the centre of her chest. She realised that a little bit of the man's blood had transfered to her hand from the tissue, but too late, as her new boss zeroed in on the spash of red on her hand.

"_Don't make me ask you again_," Christian hissed at the man who smirked nastily beside her, "_get the fuck out of here and never come back!_" He was seething, spittle flying from his lips like a snake's venom. Olivia realised in a flash of understanding that this was the other side of him, the side that was hidden behind the face he showed the world. He could be dangerous, under certain circumstances, very dangerous indeed.

She felt pain shoot up her arm from her wrist when he snatched it roughly and held it close. He did not look up to see the other man scurry off and out of sight—he didn't need to, he could hear the sound of the man's footsteps change as he got further and further away. "He didn't hurt me, it is _his _blood there, not mine," she told him quietly, hardly aware that she was speaking at all.

"You're too delicate for this," he whispered, still not looking at her, sadness tainting his tone. "I can't..." He shook his head, not continuing his sentence.

"Who was that man?" She asked, confused. Just _what _was he referring to? This job? Did he think that she was not ready for this level of employment? She did, and she knew that it was about time she did something meaningful with her life.

"A man who deserves much more than what I'm giving him," there was a humourless smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "He sent a spy in the guise of an employee to take my money from me." he remembered confronting her in his office.

"By much more, you mean..." She wasn't sure she wanted to know, but she had to ask. Was this guy a gangster? Would he have that man _disappear_? She was torn between being afraid of the mystery man and the man who stood before her, considering whether the businessman was more dangerous.

"Don't look so worried," he sighed.

"I can't help it," she said, thinking _this is what you reduce me to._

"I know you can't..." She was the perfect submissive... but she was almost too much for even him to handle. Would he ever confront her with the possibilities? He shook his head, trying to avoid her eye as she watched his reaction, feeling lost. How could he have her working for him when there was no chance of... when the idea of dominating her made him feel dirty, more so than usual? How would he get anything done with that sort of a tease sitting mere metres away?

Olivia felt uncomfortable, standing in front of him with nothing to occupy herself with. Her hands itched to touch something, to hold, to feel anything that could anchor her to the here and now. When Christian's fingers brushed her cheek in a carress, she found it in him.

"I don't think this is a good idea," she told him.

He dropped his hand dejectedly, turning away and hiding his face. "Your right, maybe I was wrong about you..."

Seeing that she might lose another job because she had said something wrong, she put a hand out to stop him and felt his muscles tighten under her fingers. She snatched her hand away from him and stumbled back. "I'm sorry."

He slammed his fist against the wall and the plaster cracked in a spiderweb-like pattern. He was so fustrated by the fact that he could not control this woman that he hadn't stopped to think what this display of his rage would do to her. Now that he could see past the grey haze that coloured his vision, he could see the expression on her face, and what he saw made his desire burn even fiercer inside his chest. Whatever had happened in her past was going to make her run away, he could feel it in his bones.

She blinked and a big fat tear rolled down her cheek, the horror of her past catching up with her once again. It did not matter how fast she ran, how far she went, the memory of what had happened would haunt her. This man had seemed so charming, so suave and gentle, but it had been just another mask for another monster. To break a wall like that... it took strength. What if that fist was used on her?

"I'm not going to hurt you," he understood that this was what frightened her. "I'm just... fustrated."

She bit her lip and watched him follow the movement with his eyes. She'd promised herself that she would not lose another job, but she would never feel safe here and would never be able to feel comfortable. It wasn't worth that, this job that she had never really wanted. "I can't work for you," she was backing away as fast as she could, but each time she went into a piece of furniture it hurt and slowed her down. She was only half way across the room when the intensity of his eyes stopped her. It was as if he were speaking to her, whispering something, a promise.

He stopped moving closer and stood with his eyes closed and his arms held out before him. "Go, then." He dropped his arms.

"I'm sorry," she said, her back to him as she sprinted for the elevators and pressed the button over and over, as if pressing it more than once would speed her escape. Each second she expected to see him come around the corner after her, but he didn't. The doors opened and she slipped inside the moment she could.


	5. Chapter 5

**Tell Me...**

**5**

The nightmares only grew worse, the greater the distance between she and her ex-boss became, though she was still living in the same place; Now when she dreamed of that crimson room, she could see the face of her tormentor—that it was _him_. The memory of how amazing he had seemed before was not enough to quell the gloom that had followed her home from her first and last day at work, and as she stared around her at the darkened bedroom she imagined seeing things that weren't there. She had been renting this apartment since she was eighteen, and she had never felt so uncomfortable in it as she did now—alone and frightened and thinking of _him._

What was she going to do now, she wondered with a twinge in her gut. How was she going to make a living? What was she going to do now that the best opportunity for a job she could probably do well had passed her by?

She awoke, damp with her own sweat, suddenly aware of the buzzing, which seemed louder than usual in her silent bedroom. Even if she was glad to have escaped the trauma of the nightmare it was only... she glanced at her bedside table and the alarm clock which sat on it... it was only one thirty in the morning. The phone had barely left the charging cradle before someone was speaking on the other end. She hastened to press the receiver to her ear, but it was clear that she had missed some of what the caller had said.

"Hello?"

"Olivia? Are you... safe?" There was a cough, as if there was something in his throat he needed to shift, or he was thirsty and needed to drink. She could not recognise the voice at first, but after a moment to think of the possibilities...

"Christian?" _What the hell was he doing, calling her at this time of night? _"What's the matter, why are you calling me at this hour?" In her sleepy haze, she felt vaguely glad that she had filtered her response. Even after what had happened the day before, she did not want to lose the position, if she could possibly keep it. After a few moments to collect her thoughts enough to speak, she added, "I'm fine, I'm perfectly safe..." she paused, "I think I am anyway." Surely he would not call her at this time without a good reason, and if it was her _safety _he was worried about... she yawned and felt sleep dragging her back under.

"I'm coming over, don't move." His voice was rushed and breathless, but still as commanding as ever. He did not wait for a reply, he just hung up the phone.

Olivia was left holding the phone to ear with the sound of nothing in her ears. That was beyond weird, she thought, unable to move a centimetre in any direction. Sleep no longer had any hold on her; she was wide awake with her eyes wide open. Was she in fact still dreaming? Was the phone call just in her head, and if she called him back, would she just hear a very irritated ex-employer? She did not want to draw any more of his attention to herself, but what else did she have to do at this time in the morning? Not relax, that was for sure.

She was downstairs and pouring herself a large mug of coffee when the door bell rang over and over. His words came back to her like lightening, stopping her heart for a moment and freezing her place. Whether it had been his intention or not, the combination of his tone and his words had made her almost painfully aware of just how empty this house was. Anything could happen to her here, and no one would know she was even in danger until it was far, far too late. Every creek, every time the wood below her groaned her thoughts went back to that phone conversation. Damn him, how had he managed to make her afraid in her own home?

She opened the door with an expression she hoped did not show her fear. She bowed her head, to keep the bright artificial light above her door from blinding her, and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "What's up, Christian?" She said scathingly.

He didn't waste any time before starting to speak as if she needed aids to hear anything at all, loudly with hands that twitched. "That man—the one you saw this morning," he took a shaky breath, "Have you seen him again since?" He waited, but when she did not answer with anything but a confused stare he asked again with more zeal, his eyes wide and intense, "Have you seen him again?" He came forwards into her house, backing her up against the hallway wall. "You have to tell me..." She put her hands up over her face to shield herself from his anger, but instead of taking it as a cue to back off, he grabbed both wrists and pinned them above her head like shackles to a wall.

_Was he threatening her? _"Christian, stop..." she whispered her voice raspy in the cool night air that came through her open front door.

He moved in close, using his greater size to intimidate her.

"I don't have to tell you anything!" She did not care if her voice would wake up the neighbours, she only wanted this man away from her before he could do any more harm. The memory of her nightmare lingered at edges of her consciousness and his face refused to go away, especially as he pinned her against the wall just like then, too.

"Tell me..."

"No! No I haven't seen him again since that one time! Why does it matter, anyway?" Her voice was becoming shrill and Christian put a finger to her lips.

"That man," a growl reverberated in his chest before he continued, "is very dangerous to girls like you. He..." he dropped his finger from her lips and stepped back towards the front door. "He would have... hurt you."

"Hurt me, how?" Although she wanted to get some more sleep, she would never be able to if she did not know what he came here for.

There was a pause before he spoke. "I don't think this is a conversation for your front porch," he said with an edge. "Can I come inside?" He moved as if to go past her into the house, but she stopped him with a hand firmly on his chest.

"No, no you can't." She would be quite firm on this. Now that a face had been put to her nightmare attacker, she was not about to be alone with him where she would have no defence. She was not stupid, and after all that had happened to her, she did not trust any man to be alone with her at night. Would she ever get over this? She did not think so.

He left her alone shortly after, but within minutes of closing the door in his face she was regretting it. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she could not shake the feeling of being watched.

She went into her bedroom and searched through every pocket in every shirt, searching for something she had put there on the day she had gone to Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. He had slipped something written on a scrap of paper to her, but she had forgotten about it in her haste to forget that she had even tried to get a job there. It had been embarrassing, the thought that she could have worked there, and she did not want to feel shame. When at last she found it, she was sweating as if she had run a mile and her heart had been about to burst through her chest. She unfolded the paper and smoothed it out on the floor, reading it carefully. There was nothing personal in the header of the paper, just contact information for the company, but underneath where a computer's words would usually be there was a hand written note instead.

_If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call_. His mobile number was written neatly as well.

She dialled the number with fingers that shook, and held the handset to her ear in hands that felt as cold as ice. The call went to the answer machine, leaving her free to say what she needed to without hearing his response.

"Chris—I think I'm... I'm scared, I think... call me, please..." She hung up the phone and stared with wide, unseeing eyes into the darkness...

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Tell Me...**

**6**

Christian went to work feeling a strange sort of purpose, anticipation maybe, though he could not be sure why he felt such a strong emotion. He had considered all the possibilities while he lay in his bed at one o'clock in the morning, unable to brush off the thoughts that gnawed at his brain like rats. His instincts had been screaming at him since he left work that he should go to her, but she had seemed so wary that day, and he did not want to risk her calling the cops. He had more to think about than _her _anyway; ever since he discovered the spy, Richard had not made any attempt at confronting him and his absence was making him nervous. What evil was his old enemy planning, because there _had _to be something, there always was.

He parked his car in his usual space and looked around him. Had he ever paid attention to the car that she drove? Did she have a car? He couldn't remember, and the fact that he hadn't noticed was killing him. His stomach clenched tight as he stared around him and recognised every vehicle. There was not an unfamiliar one among them, but that did not have to mean anything—she might be waiting inside for him as always, her eyes following his every movement as he went to and unlocked his office door. He loved how she watched him, even if people watched him wherever he went, because when _her_ eyes skimmed over him like they did he felt a delicious shiver race up his spine... and he loved it.

He had arrived later than usual because of his lack of sleep, and through the glass of the door, he saw Andrea applying her make-up as she sat at the reception desk, but when he pushed through the entrance he saw her quickly retract her mascara below the desk and smile innocently. He would have probably said something, or just given her a look that was worth more than words, but he had too much on his mind to waste time with unnecessary things. For some inexplicable reason, he felt afraid to take the stairs to his office. "Has Olivia arrived this morning?" He asked the receptionist, trying to seem casual.

"No... actually I haven't... she's normally here by the time... Sir?"

He shrugged off her concern without a word and went to his office on the second floor without looking back to acknowledge her again. Where was Olivia? He needed to know, because she was what had him so on edge. He could not understand how she had insinuated her self into his life so quickly, but that was the truth of it, and it was a truth he could not deny any longer. He had to find her, even if she did not want to be found. He had known from the moment that he first laid eyes on her that she was the one he wanted, but after he had her what would come next? He knew instinctively that she would never be able to accept him for all that he was.

X

They handled her roughly even when she hadn't tried to put up a fight, two sets of hands on her body that squeezed and pinched. The dread that had been building inside of her since the man had appeared from the shadows like some sort of demon was a coldness inside her chest. She wanted to rub her arms, to erase the goosebumps that made her skin sensitive, but she knew that it would be impossible. These men, she was sure that they were all men, had been laying in wait for her in her apartment for what must have been hours and they would not make escaping easy, she was sure.

She could not speak with the gag in her mouth, even though she wanted to scream. The men had brought her in front of a figure dressed all in black, with black eyes that glittered in the dark and sent shivers down her spine. For some inexplicable reason she felt afraid of this man in a way that she had never been before; a trembling started in her stomach, the fingers of her bound hands twitched uncontrollably, and she had to blink back a painful stinging in her eyes more than once. His smile was that of a shark, his white teeth glinting at her from the dark like a promise.

She made a murmuring sound that had meant to be a sentence and watched him follow the movement of her lips with his eyes as if her mouth was the only thing worth paying attention to in the world. He was still focused on her mouth as he stood from his chair and came closer to her.

"I can see why he's so fascinatedby you..." he whispered close to her ear, to make sure she heard every word. "... just the thought... it makes my mouth water to think of seeing you bound..." he groaned rapturously and retracted his mouth from where it had been hovering above her skin, leaving rapidly cooling condensation on her neck. "But we will have more than enough time for that..."

She wanted to question what he was talking about, but she did not _dare_. The way he spoke to her made her part angry and part afraid. She hated being talked down to, as if she were no older than a child, and could sense that this man was used to getting what he wanted, which scared her. She still had the phantom of her past to fight against, she did not want a new, much more real, monster to battle now. As he gazed fixedly on her, there was no way she could convince herself that this wouldn't end badly.

From behind, someone reached over her head and removed the gag from her, but only replaced it with another. This one was different somehow, bigger and round, and it felt far too big inside her mouth. She wanted to spit the thing out, but before she could think that far it had been fastened tightly behind her head. There was no way that she would be able to detach it, she knew that and so did he.

"Better?" he asked with a smirk, knowing that this new gag hurt her.

She tried to put on an angry face, but with her mouth practically immobile she could only furrow her brow.

"Confused?" he had a sceptical expression. "Don't tell me he hasn't already approached you, Olivia. I've been watching him—he _has _to have. From the moment he saw you, I could read on his face all the things he had planned for you. Don't tell me he hasn't even suggested taking you on..."

_On as what? _She thought, unable to actually say the words. _What is this crazy man talking about? What was it he thought Christian wasn't telling me?_ She knew that it had to be something pretty big for him to look so suddenly flustered. She thought back to when she had visited Grey Enterprises Holding Inc. but still could not make sense of what he might be talking about. _Was Christian a perfectionist? _She thought that everyone must know the answer to that.

X

"Blonde, blue-eyed, slim—have you seen a woman with this description?" Christian said into the phone, his tone unusually brisk and formal. He could not help it, it was just what the thought of Olivia missing, possibly in danger, did to him. The seconds it took for him to get a response were agonizing and he almost growled his frustration.

"I don't know, man," Elliott sounded half asleep, which he probably was at this time in the morning. "Isn't every woman you meet tall, blonde—"

"I didn't say she was tall," he paused to start breathing normally again, "She's... missing..." He had to fight to get the last word out, but even when he had he did not feel as if he had won any battle. He wanted to say that she was _perfect_, but he did not think that now was the best time to bring the subject up.

"If she's not with you... where do you think she is?"

Bile rose up into his throat and he had to swallow it back down before he could speak again. "I think Richard is behind this... she would not just..." _Would she, though?_

"I'm sure that's true," Elliott said, the smile in his voice fading as he read something in his brother's voice. "About this _Richard_... what exactly makes him a prime suspect? Has he been causing you trouble?" He could not imagine anyone refusing to do _anything _that Christian wanted, but the world never lacked for fools...

"Yesterday—I refused to back his latest business venture,"

"That's all?" he asked, incredulous.

"He said he'd been watching me—watching her. I believed him, and I still do."

"So—you think _he's_ behind her disappearance?" He sounded sceptical, as if he did not really believe the likelihood of this.

"Yes." He was sure of this, and he was also sure that any chance of having her the way he wanted was unlikely to ever happen. When he found Richard, and he _would _find him, the things he would do to the man would probably send her screaming from him in fear.

X

Her throat felt raw from all the cries he had drawn from her mouth and her wrists felt as though they were about to snap from the pressure of the plastic that bound them together, but she could keep silent while he walked away from her. He was humiliating her in the hopes that she would, finally, submit to his desires but little did he know that it would not work. She was stronger than he thought she was, and she had learnt from the horrors of her past; before, before the incident at the Library, she wouldn't have been able to ignore the pain and the desperation he made her feel, and she would not be able to feel hope.

She hoped, despite everything.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Tell Me...**

**7**

He smiled thinly as he watched the slow tears roll down her face, his eyes cold and unsympathetic—a predator's stare. It did not matter how much she begged, nothing she did seemed to phase him or soften his resolve. It hadn't taken her long to figure out what this whole thing was about—this show of how much he could make her want to die. This wasn't about himself, or her; this was all about Christian, and how much Richard could make _him _suffer. He bent down to where she was sprawled on the floor, tied up and gagged, and stroked a cool finger down the side of her face, capturing her tears and bringing them to his lips, his eyes a little sad.

"Tell me..." he breathed the words so softly his breath felt like silk against her skin. "What makes you so special?"

_I wish I knew _was on the tip of her tongue, but she caught herself just in time. Instead, she said, "I don't know," She hoped that he did not imagine hearing something in her voice that would make him puch her like he had, again. In the hours that he had had her inprisoned here, he had beat her into unconsciousness and, perhaps even before she had regained conciousness, done _things _to her that she could hardly even bring herself think about. The only thing she could be sure of was just how much she was hurting, and how much she would give to be saved from this; she would give anything, and everything.

"_You're lying_," he hissed, the venom in his voice making her feel as queazy as if she had in fact injested arsenic and was suffering the effects. "Tell me what he's done with Marisa—and _do not _lie to me again, understand?" He wrapped his long, strong arms around her and squeezed her tightly as a warning that even a deaf man would have heard.

"I'm not lying—I don't know what your talking about! Why would Christian do anything to harm _anyone_?" _Who was Marisa_?

He made a scoffing sound that she felt vibrating her bones, but he was smiling. "Did you enjoy..." he nodded his head to the objects before them, each of which had caused her pain. "...all this?" He felt more than saw her shake her head in the negative. "No? That's too bad, I guess, since I know for a fact that the man you seem so willing to protect wants to do this to you, too..." his smile crackled as he grinned. "He wants to be your master, for you to be his slave..."

"No!" she shouted, though so softly it was no louder than her previous whispered words. _No!_

"Saying," he did a poor imitation of her voice, "_No! _Doesn't change the fact that the only reason he hired you was so he could keep you all to himself..."

"It isn't true!" Even to her own ears the words sounded hollow. She had suspected from the first moment she ever laid eyes on Christian Grey that there was something _different _about him, but even after being told bluntly that he _was _different she could not believe it. She could not imagine the suave business man as... _this_...

X

"How should we approach the warehouse?" Elliott asked, his previous good humour suddenly evaporated by the strange look on his brother's face, his voice subdued for once. There must be something about this woman that he did not see, or simply wasn't capable of fathoming. To him, Olivia was just the same as every other female that worked for his brother. Now that they knew where she was the next step should have been obvious, but Christian held up a hand as if to hold him back.

"There are guards at either entrance, so walking through the front door is out of the question..."

"Or walking through the back, huh?"

"Aren't you taking this seriously at all? There has to be another way in." His eyes narrowed as he scanned the satalite image of the building. At last he spotted something and nodded his head in it's direction. "What about over there?"

Elliott looked over in that direction an squinted hard to see what his brother was speaking about, It took him a few extra precious seconds, but finally he spotted something amiss. "I can't tell if it's just my imagination," he said, putting his hand up as if to sheild his eyes from the sun, even where the sky was cloudy and dark above.

Christian leant forwards slightly as he tried to see what his brother was seeing. The walls, atleast those on the exterior of the building, were plated with some sort of grey metal, and parts were in worse state than others. He saw now what he should have noticed at the beginning, had he been thinking straight. A foot to the left of centre of the metallic wall was a section that was rimmed by rust. Was it just a coincidence, would he go up to it and _not _find a secret, hidden back door to the place?

"Who puts a back door to their evil lair?" Elliott asked, coming to the same conclusion at roughly the same moment. "I mean—really, what kind of sense does that make?"

He murmured something low in acknowlegement of the question. He was only vaguely aware that his brother was speaking—instead of listening he tried to weigh his options. He could forget about subtlty and storm inside, or wait for a better opportunity to enter undetected. It would not do any of them any good if he was caught, but if he waited too long there might not be anything to save at all. He was not thinking about himself at all anymore, what did it matter if the best he would be able to hope for with her was vanilla sex? Why did he even care about any of that—wouldn't he forsake that dark pleasure if it meant having her with him?

X

"Kneel," he ordered, his tone as cold and hard as a lonely bolder at the top of a wintery mountain. When her stunned brain could not process the order as quickly as he would have liked, he clamped clawed hands around her shoulders and pushed her to her knees. She fell easily, offering no resistance at all, but even when she was planted firmly on the floor he did not relent his grip on her—not until she begged him.

"Please..." she whimpered, the vibrations of her own voice hurting her raw throat.

"Not good enough," he snarled, the sound resonating inside the cold, almost empty room. There was nothing comforting in the room, just pain, even their breaths echoed around them, but it still made her feel clausterphobic when he crowded her with his body. "I want you to _beg _for me to stop, say you will do _anything _if it will make me release you..."

"Please... I'll do anything if you just... please..."

"Master..."

"Please Master..."

He released his punishing grip on her shoulders and violently forced her forwards until her cheek was pressed against the ground, her backside in the air. He pressed himself firmly against her and waited, feeling a stirring from inside him. "Good girl," he mumured, shifting slightly into a better position.

From somewhere below them, there was a loud crashing sound, followed by a clashing of metal and the sound of a gun firing and a bullet hitting it's target.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Tell Me...**

**8**

Richard smiled, his teeth shining and sharp, and tsked, shaking his head as if in regret. Olivia could tell easily enough, just by watching how his mouth twitched upwards at the corners, that her tormentor did not _really _feel any remorse. If he _really _felt bad, he would release her from this prison and leave her alone for good.

"The benfits could go both ways, you know," he told her softly, so gently that she could almost believe he was sorry, _almost_. "If you just let yourself _enjoy_ what I'm doing, we could both be happy." _She hated how he spoke as if they were a couple._ They weren't a couple and, if Olivia had any sense left in her, they never would be.

"_Right_," she scoffed, and then braced herself for whatever he did next. She would have laughed out-right if she had had the energy, but she had decided to keep what remained for breathing. Each inhalation seemed harder than the last, but she did not know for sure if this was because the air was getting thicker, or her body was in shock. Either could have been possible, but the latter would seem more likely.

He backhanded her, a loud cracking sound in the otherwise silent space, and her head turned suddenly to the right. He was silent, assured in his dominence, but his contempt for her was strong enough to sit heavy on her shoulders. "Don't speak to me in that way, got it bitch?"

She wanted to answer him with something that would convey her disgust in him, her strength enough to resist, but her throat closed tight around the words. Somehow, looking up at him as he loomed over her with nothing but coldness in his eyes, she could not speak a word, only gaze up at him with eyes that threatened to shed a tear.

There was a knock on the door and Richard released her from the kiss with a shove to the floor. She did not make a sound, maybe because he had warned her not to, and maybe because her throat hurt, he did not care which. He watched her for a moment, glorying in her helplessness and weakness, before moving to answer the unwelcome intruder into his time with her; he knew instictively who would be there waiting for him, but the smile was still plastered to his face as if he was glad for the interruption.

"What is it?" he asked his employee chillingly.

The man dressed in all black began speaking quickly, his words falling from his lips without a pause between them. He told Richard, Two unknowns have been spotted in the west-side building and they had already taken down most of the security team stationed there, and then he began apologising prefusly, begging and pleading for forgiveness. He must have known that he would not get any, because when he finished speaking he cowered alittle as if he expected to feel his boss's fist.

"_Idiots_," he hissed, straightening and hardening his face. He did not even spare her a glance before he swept out of the room, his movements full of a kind of rage that sent shivers up Olivia's spine.

Although she had _hated _how he treat her just before, she was grateful that he hadn't been angry at her, too. To have that sort of fury directed at her... her heart began thumping at just the thought. She would do anything, be anything, withstand any sort of treatment if only to keep that rage away. She would agree to anything he asked her to do, anything he wanted, and she knew that this was what he desired.

X

Christian threw down the handgun the moment he knew that it was safe to do so, his skin feeling electrified even as the adrenaline inside went back to it's normal level. So much killing... so much death at his own hands... it was enough to send his heart racing inside his chest. Hard as it was to believe, considering how quickly he had managed to get to the top of the business game, he had never had to dirty his hands like this. He swept his gaze over the bodies laying motionless at his feet, aware that not all of them were dead, and then rested his gaze on his brother.

"Woah." Elliott murmured softly in the ensuing silence, staring at one body in particular. One of their foes had a chest that you could almost see through, and the gore and blood seeped onto the ground around the body. He had seen his brother angry before, knew his rage to be a formidable force, but never had he seen him lose control like this. If he was honest with himself, this new Chrisitian both concerned and impressed him. "I didn't know it was even possible to do that..."

He didn't reply, just closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of death. Was he too late, when he got to her, what would he find? He shuddered to think of what state she must be in now, and felt lightheaded when he thought of how she would _never _want to be with him now—after everything.

"_Christian_," bellowed at familiar voice from above him, from a landing a few floors above where he and Elliott stood. "Have you come to join us, I wonder?" There were footsteps on metal, "I explained to her how it works, so there will be no wasting time talking—"

"Olivia!" He called, as loud as he could.

Any shed of friendliness left Richard's voice as he stared down at them from above, "Don't waste your breath—she can't hear you, however loud you shout."

"What do you mean, What have you done to her? Why won't she be able to answer me?" He asked these things already knowing the answer deep down inside. Although he himself enjoyed the bondage of his bed-parteners, to imagine _Olivia _in that situation made him sick. He wondered what the difference was, and why it mattered so much to him. Why did imagining her, bound and gagged, make him feel sick to his very core? He had no answer for any of these things, but he did know that he could not leave here without Olivia safe, secured within his arms.

Richard raised a gun from his side and pointed downward at them. He said nothing.

Christian held up his hands as if he were surrendering, though still keeping a firm grip on his own weapon. "I'm not like you," he said—a denial.

X

A shot sounded from behind the closed door and she flinched as much as she was able, bound as she was and unable to move. Was that Christian's gun firing, or was it Richards? She had no idea and the thought that all hope was gone made her body feel suddenly too weak to move. It was as if all the blood in her own body was leaking out of a bullet wound, as if it was _her _that had been hit. She wouldn't really have minded being shot herself at the moment, but if Christian was hurt... no, she couldn't think like that. It had taken her only minutes to reconcile her feelings—that she _cared _about the man even when she knew it was pointless, especially now.

Just as she was about to close her eyes and escape this waking-nightmare, she heard a disturbance from beyond the locked door. She held her breath and waited, hating how her heart continued to make such a loud sound in the silence. The door opened and a stranger smiled at her.

"I'm here to help." The man said, and the stone wall of numbness crumbled, disolving her to tears.

"Christian?" She cried, although she was more than aware that this wasn't him. She didn't know why, but his name was the first and only thing she could think.

The stranger sighed. "He's just... he's taking care of the bastard that did this to you." There was a grimness in his tone that showed what he felt more clearly than words. Elliott did not like to think what his brother might be doing to Richard, and he was sure Olivia would not be any different. He could not be the one to tell her—that was Christian's burden to bare. He would have liked to make things easier for his brother, but even he did not have the skills to make _that _conversation go smoothly.

"Is he _really _a monster?" she asked suddenly, her voice tentative, as she took the stranger's hand.

He paused for only a moment. "No," he said, knowing that this was the truth, feeling a heaviness in his chest. _She knew_.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Tell Me...**

**9**

He wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her stand straight. Her body felt too tender, too achingly aware of even the quality of the air around her. When Elliott had came through that door the fresh air that followed him had been a welcome arrival, too; she hadn't realised how much she had been struggling to breathe until suddenly, mercifully she wasn't. Now the air did not taste stale on her tongue, and her lungs were not burning, screaming for oxygen. She could breathe and it felt wonderful each time she inhaled, blissful to the point where keeping her eyes open seemed like more effort than it was worth.

"Don't faint on me, honey," Elliott breathed softly, only half joking. "Christian would have a heart-attack if I appeared cradling you in my arms." _As if you were dead_. He hadn't seen his brother react to anyone the way he did her, but he understood what would happen if he saw her unmoving in his arms. He would break down, fall apart, be reduced to a broken man. How could Elliott make her understand this when he could not explain? Sometimes dealing with him felt like too much work, but the simple reason why he bothered was that Christian was his brother, and he would do almost _anything _for family.

"Where is he?" She asked this tentatively, as if she would be reluctant to go far without his brother. This wasn't an unusual demand, women always wanted to be wherever Christian Grey was, but there was something in her voice that was different. Elliott knew that now wasn't the time to venture into this with her, that it wasn't his place to ask the question, but he was beginning to get the impression that there was more to this Oliviathan met the eye. He would find out later what that something was, because right now he had to focus all his attention on keeping her safe and alive.

She slumped into the side of him, her eyelids shut and no sign of movement underneath. She was so tierd...

X

Christian's whole body clenched tight as he forced himself not to stumble backwards. He looked down at his shirt reflexively, watching the crimson spread over the front of his t-shirt with a kind of facination. It was impossible that so much of it could come from just one wound, but however much he might like to pretend otherwise, there was no denying that the blood was all his. They had both pulled the trigger at the same time, but he did not know if his bullet ever left the gun; he couldn't know if he had kept his aim, or if he had missed.

To his left there was the sound of mechanical parts meshing together and he turned a few degrees in that direction. His reluctance to shift his position was for more reasons than just the obvious; he was not just afaid that he would get shot if he took his eyes off of the gun, he was afraid of doing anything that might endanger her further. There was the chance that Richard hadn't head the quiet sound.

"Tell me... Christian," his voice was both melodic and mocking, a deadly combination. "What would you give to keep her safe? Your position, your company, your life?" The elevator _bing_ed as it came to their level. "If her life depended on it, would you give all that up?" His smile, which had been as nasty as a smile could be, switched to a frown in an instant. "Think about it, Christian, really think about it. Is she worth losing everything else?" The confidense radiated not only from his eyes, but from every other bit of his body.

Christian's eyes closed as his confidence deflated. He had fallen for this girl so quickly, so instantaneously upon first seeing her, that he couldn't really know what it was he felt. He knew he was attracted to her, in the way of the dominent for the submissive, but he knew that this could not just be it. There had to be some unnameable thing there too, because no other woman in the world was like _her_. Could he lose everything, would he, for her?

"_Oh_, Christian—your silence is worth a thousand words..."

The elevator doors opened with excrusiating slowness, revealing a sight that he wished he could not see.

"I would give up everything," Christian said finally, not taking his eyes off of the sight of Olivia in Elliott's arms, his eyes burning in a painful way. "I would give anything."

"What makes you think I want you to _do _anything? Who says I don't just want you to _watch_?"

There was a bad feeling creeping over him. _Watch_. What on earth could this bastard want him to watch? The bad sensations were quickly turning to sick ones as he considered what could be in store for her. Was Richard going to fuck her, while he watched? Was that what he meant? There were worse things, he knew very well, but that did not mean that he would willingly sit by and _watch _it happening if there was anything he could do to stop it.

Richard turned away, towards the open elevator, and snarled. He took two steps forward before pointing his gun at Elliotts head. "Drop her now, or else..."

"Or else? What kind of—" But he never could finish his sentence. _What kind of threat is that?_

The gun fired and the sound seemed to echo in the room. She couldn't breathe, just stare and feel the blood soaking her clothes in the deepest red.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Tell Me...

**10**

It happened so slowly, but too fast for him to do anything about it. Even as Richard pulled the trigger Elliott thought to himself, _he can't be serious_. Who ever shot at someone from this close a range? Didn't he care about blood splatter on his fine clothes? It was the shot of someone who hadn't a lot of experience with guns, instead of an experienced assasin; Richard had killed more people than Elliott could even guess at, and it showed in the coldness of his eyes. He did not release her even when he felt his body shudder from the force of the impact... But there was no pain.

Even Olivia did not feel it. The move has been thoughtless and insticutial, meaning that she was just as stunned as him to feel warmth and wetness rolling down to her shoulders. The blood escaped past her fingers relentlessly, despite how the pressure of her fingertips. Her hand was pressed to her neck and the bullet wound as if it made any difference. She knew it had been adrenaline that had enabled her to move quickly enough, and to be strong enough to force Elliott down to the floor and away from the bullet's path before it was too late, but it had also made her reckless. Had she been thinking, she would have known the risk to herself and hesitated. Was this better? Even as she slumped to the ground, she couldn't be sure of the answer. As her heart pounded it forced more and more of her blood from the wound...

The bullet had passed straight through her neck, Elliott saw as he clambered to his feet, ignoring the threat still standing above him. His fingers were numb and they clumsily groped at her neck, trying to find a pulse in amoungst the blood and gore. There was no beating against his fingers, but he could see her pulse at work as it forced what looked like a litre of crimson fluid from her each second. He couldn't hear her breathing, but he told himself that this did not necessarily mean that she was going to die—he could not think that she was already dead.

"Olivia!" The cry came from Christian, who stood, still clutching the gun with his eyes squinted in concentration, seemingly frozen in that position. His mind was focused only just one thing, and that was the slightly too pale, smirking figure before him. He could feel the grief building inside his chest, like a tidal wave of emotion that would crash down on him at any moment, but he could ignore emotion when he had to. Wasn't that what he had done when he had been a submissive, anyway? Hadn't he pleased his first and only Dominent, for a time, by being able to take the punishments without a word or a sound? He could bare this feeling for as long as it took—it was the only thing he was sure of right now.

"He's moving—should I shoot?" Elliott asked hastily, raising his gun and taking aim. He told himself that he wouldn't do anything until he had the all-clear from Christian, but his brother could not see the state Olivia was in, bleeding to death in Richard's arms. The seconds passed with an almost audible _tick _every moment that nothing was done, and eventually it became too much for him to stand. He slapped his hand over the wound in her neck and began applying pressure, as if anything could slow the torrent of blood. There was so much that most of it escaped past his fingers and rolled down his arm, and he knew that Olivia, who was the first woman ever to really affect his brother, would not make it to a hospital.

"Christian..." he began, but was interrupted by an echoing from below. "Make a decision—and fast!"

"Shoot." He panted, barely able to get the words past his lips, past all the desperation that blocked his throat and made breathing a struggle. His eyesight was razor sharp and he could see Richard as he pushed Olivia's lifeless body on the floor, half in and half out the elevator.

"_Christian_..." She coughed up blood, which rolled past her lips to her chin, and from there to what was left of her neck. The world was starting to dim around the edges, but if she could just see him again... just one more time... maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Elliott took aim and closed his eyes for just a second; Even a man with as little experience with guns as he had to know that it only took one bullet to end a life. It wouldn't take more than a little pressure on the trigger... it would be all over and she would be safe. She would be safe... _she would be safe_... and this man would be dead.

"No, no, no... stay with me Olivia... stay with me..."

Richard began to chuckle delightedly, as if he could somehow read Elliott's thoughts. "You won't kill me Grey, you don't have it in you. Your brother here—"

"Elliott!" Christian shouted hoarsely from behind. "You have to shoot!"

_He had to shoot_, he thought in that moment of blinding clarity. This had to be done, however much it went against his morals. _This man has to die_.

Vaguely, Olivia heard shouting from over her head, but the voices were muffled and she could not tell whom they belonged to. Anything could be happening around her and she would have no idea, not that she cared too much at this point. It was becoming harder and harder to care about anything at all. The darkness engulfing her like the sea stripped her of any energy she had left to fight the feelings she had been holding back all this time, the desire deep inside. She could _think_ now that she was well and truly alone, but her thoughts were only of _him_, of how much less frightening he seemed now. He might be just as perverse as Richard, even now the mention of that monster's name made her insides clench tight, but surely it wasn't possible if he had come to save her? She refused to believe that Christian could be so cruel.

"She's too close—What... I can't risk shooting _her _instead!" he exclaimed without taking his stare off Olivia. Richard pulled her limp body all the way into the elevator and pressed the button that would take them to the top floor, a cruel smile shaping his lips.

"_Dammit!_" Christian swore, spitting the words from his mouth as if they had a bitter taste, rushing forwards without any forethought; It was only when his palms slapped uselessly against the closed doors that he was able to think again. If there was ever a time when being cold and detatched meant anything it was now but his thoughts were racing around in his head. What were the chances of his being able to climb the many stairs to wherever Richard had taken her before something happened? He could invision it now, and for a moment or two he was frozen.

"I-I'm sorry... she was too close... she was too close," Elliott stumbled over his words, already pushing through the door to the stairwell.

The trilling sound and Richard, suppoting her body on his hip, manouvred Olivia out and into the barren room at the heighest elevation of the building. Before leaving the elevator he had pressed a combination into the hidden keypad, which would keep the elevator at this level. Even if _Christian Grey _didn't take the elevator, Richard was pretty sure that he could hear them coming if they used the stairs. It was a long way up and it would take them a while yet. He had time. Cupping her face he tilted her head upwards so that it was at an angle with his. He bit down on her bottom lip and watched for a reaction in her face. There wasn't one, but still he watched... savouring the pain he knew she would feel if she weren't dead to the world; He enjoyed inflicting pain, he was a Sadist.

"Where are you going?"

Christian barely turned in his direction, and didn't answer as he took the steps two, sometimes three at a time. If he could only make it to where _he _had her... he would feel as if he had some control.


	11. Chapter 11 - End

Tell Me...

11

The elevator doors opened and Richard stepped out with Olivia hanging limply at his side, his movements more rough than she deserved. This was not going the way he had planned, but he knew it would not mean the end of everything if she was dead. Even if she could not feel the blows he dealt her the effect on him would be the same. He could imagine the pain, and in that he could find pleasure; he was talented at imagining and ruthless in his enjoyment.

Further down the corridor there were two doors leading in from the stairwell beyond, and he kept one eye on it while he dragged her limp body towards a different set of doors in the opposite direction. His fingers, which had been so skilled when they had touched the girl, were clumsy as he sought out the key that would enable them inside his office. He had had the lock installed for this reason, so that when he had _company_ he wouldn't be disturbed. It was bad enough if anyone from the company saw him taking an attractive young lady into his office alone, and not reappear until hours later, but it would be worse if anyone caught him red-handed in the act of forcing himself on her. He had _done _many a woman in this office during his time here, and with each he had threatened terrible and horrible things if they spoke about it to anyone. This policy had worked until now, because he felt certain that if Olivia spoke out against him, to anyone, it didn't matter who, all his previous victims would make the mistake of thinking that they could too. He couldn't allow that.

Finally, he had the right key in the right place and had the door open. With barely a glance downwards to check that he wasn't dropping her into anything sharp or deadly, he released her from his grasp and she fell, the only sound her dead weight hitting the floor. She was not dead, her heart was still forcing blood from the gash in her neck as he watched, but it would not be long now.

_The clock is ticking_, Richard thought as he watched the second hand move on his expensive platinum-plated watch. _Better hurry up Christian Grey_.

Olivia made a sound that was half gurgle half speech. Even as her world was fading into black, she could appreciate how amazing it was that she was even capable of that. Her eyes were too heavy to open but she could move her lips, which was strange. The pain was gone and nothing was left in it's place; she was numb all over except for a tingling in her finger-tips, and she could feel coldness. It was only a tiny bit of sensation, but she focused on it entirely to keep anchored in the moment. All she knew in that moment was that she could not let Christian think she was dead.

He crouched down beside her and his smile grew unsure around the edges. His eyes were gentle, even, as he stroked her cheek. "Maybe I will regret this after all," his fingers were so soft against her cheeks, smoothing her descent into darkness. He extracted from his pocket a thin piece of plastic and caught both her wrists up in just one of his hands. If things had been different, if his pride would allow such a thing, he would have done things differently and this beautiful woman would not have had to die.

Elliott called something up from down below, but Christian could not comprehend the words and ignored his brother. His leg muscles were starting to burn with exhaustion and his lungs felt like they were on fire—smouldering in his chest. Two more flights of stairs to go and then he would be on the top floor, where he knew he would find Olivia. The thought of her helpless and afraid made him feel reckless, and he knew that if he lost his mind he would also lose her. He had to be indifferent to her state when he found her, he had to shut off any part of him that would not want to dominate, and become the man he never wanted her to see.

_If she was still alive_.

Richard pinched her cheeks when the tears had dried and watched as a faint pink bloomed on the surface. She wasn't dead, and that was good; he wanted her alive and conscious, so she could feel all the things he was doing to her. "Are you awake, Olivia?" He asked anyway. "Can you feel _this_?" He ran a fingernail down from her chin to the base of her neck, grazing the flesh and leaving a shallow scratch. He pulled at her top and listened with sublime satisfaction as the thin cloth tore down the middle and revealed beneath more flesh yet to be marked, though marking her was only part of his plan. Scars were not what he did this for, it was her pain he desired most and it did not matter to him what he had to do to find it.

She was a prisoner in her own body. She could see nothing, hear nothing but white noise in her ears, but she could feel everything and what she felt now was pain. She did not know where it was coming from, what part of her hurt the most, but she could feel that it was only getting worse. What was he doing to her now? She knew that he would not be satisfied just because now she was barely conscious, but it was sickening to imagine what else he could have planned for her.

"Why so quiet, Olivia?" There was a groan of satisfaction and the sound was all primal satisfaction, the sound of the darkness every man had somewhere within him. Most of the human population kept that part of themselves hidden from themselves, if they felt it at all, but not Richard. She could sense his growing need, thick and palpable, in the air and her heart leapt when his head suddenly turned to something just out of her sight. He growled and it was a sound more menacing than any she had heard before. "_Christian Grey..._"

He pushed through the stairwell doors into the hallway of the top floor and stopped dead in his tracks. "What have you done to her?" he asked, but of course he _knew_. The run up here had given him time to think and he had imagined a situation like this, but it still felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. He had _hoped _that he would not be too late, but he should have known better and run even faster. Could he have? He could not know, but if it had been possible it was too late now.

_It was too late_.

Richard raised his fingers to her face and stroked her cheek almost fondly, smiling at his foe all the while. He knew how this must be killing him and wanted to make his suffering last for as long as possible. After all the scheming and plotting, he knew he deserved some kind of reward and this was reward enough... for now... but there would be more chances he knew.

Christian's face was impassive as he fought to keep his anger in control. _Losing _control would do neither him nor Elliott, nor _Olivia _for that matter, any good. He had to remain in control. Control was everything. His fist tightened and his eyes grew harder that stone as he considered Richard and what he would do next—he had to be in control and be ready for anything. "Why?" _Why? Why her? Why me?_

_Christian? _She thought, feeling fingers touching her face gently and knowing in her heart that it must be him. The pain was going away now, which was nice, but what would be left once it finally ceased? She hadn't wanted to be feel that agony any more, but this numbness was maybe even worse, this feeling of nothing. The pitch-blackness was slippery and wet and she felt as though she were falling through it faster and faster, feeling it rush around her. _Christian!_

_Fuck this_, he thought, and unleashed the fury that had been clawing at his throat from the moment hew knew who was behind Olivia's disappearance. Richard did not even look up, he remained lost in his own success and blinded by it, and he did not comprehend what Christian was about to do until his throat was squeezed between Christian's two fingers. He did not even struggle as the life was choked out of him.

"You will _never _do this to a woman again." Christian was speaking to the limp man as if the man was still capable of hearing him, but the man wasn't. And so, as he let Richard's body fall to the ground at his feet, he did not feel even a little guilty about having killed a man—there had been no other choice, because if he had been allowed to live and continue doing what he had his fetish would have made Christian an accessory to murder, even if only in his mind.

If he had told her about his own... he did not want to think the word _fetish_... his... his preferences, would she have been willing to even _try _it? He shook his head. How messed up would he have to be to be thinking of these things with her lifeless body at his feet? Was he as much of a monster as Richard had been?

"It's not the same," Elliott said, watching his brother jump. He could see the bodies, see his brother standing over them, but he was not afraid. He put a hand on Christian's shoulder and murmured something almost too quiet for him to hear. "You wouldn't do this kind of thing, it's not your style."

But Christian had to wonder what Olivia would have thought about that statement.

The next day, mid-day by the time Christian was able to make himself get out of bed and get dressed, he stopped at the reception of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc and demanded to know where Olivia was, and why she hadn't answered the e-mails he had sent her the night before. This was just for show, to set up the lie that he and Elliott had devised to explain the disappearance of his recently hired employee. There would be questions, they knew, and it would be better to set the ground-work for the lies now.

"I don't know, Mr Grey," the pert blond behind the desk said, not meeting his angry eyes, "Should I call her, her cell number is recorded right here in..."

"No," he said, perhaps too hastily, thinking it was a bad idea to seem too interested. He made a mental note to get her details deleted as soon as possible—the last thing he wanted was for his receptionist to ring her number, leave a message, only for it never to be picked up. Which reminded him...

Even though the wound Olivia had left, open and bleeding, in his heart was still fresh, he knew on a practical note that he would need to replace her immediately if he was going to distract himself from the doom and gloom and get any work done. He had a meeting in fifteen minutes, but after that he would ask Andrea to set up interviews for a new personal assistant.

The End

EPILOGUE

Elliott knew people, and for that Christian was glad. By the time Christian arrived at work the next day there was no sign of the bodies being found by the police, and no policemen knocking at his door. He knew there must have been evidence linking him to the murders, but somehow his brother had fixed it so nothing was found by the police and their dogs. He would have to thank him somehow.

"The first interviewee is waiting for you in the reception, Sir,"

Christian turned suddenly, his heart giving a lurch. _First interviewee... _how many would there be, and how likely was it that he would ever find the right one, the first time? He knew that he could not expect her to be anything more than an assistant, and that knowledge felt like a lead weight in his stomach. "Who—what's her name?"

The employee, he didn't know her name, answered without missing a beat—eager to please him, but unable. "Miss Kavanagh,"

"The one with the paper," he remarked dryly, already regretting ever having made this interview, but he knew instinctively Miss Kavanagh would be exactly what he needed.

A/N: How was it? Review please!


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